


From Shoot To Blossom

by Xekstrin



Category: RWBY
Genre: Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xekstrin/pseuds/Xekstrin
Summary: Ten years after graduating from Beacon, Blake Belladonna accidentally bumps into her former professor and schoolgirl crush, Glynda Goodwitch. They have dinner together, and then a severe miscommunication lands them in a place where Blake must make a decision. Will she take this chance, or let this opportunity slip out of her grasp?





	From Shoot To Blossom

**Author's Note:**

> (She/Her for Blake, they/them for Glynda)

 

 _It's perfect for a person like you,_ Yang had said. _Just set down a flower if you want someone to come to your table._

Blake held a book with her fingers between the pages, marking her spot as she moved further into the hunter's lounge. Most of the tables were occupied, and Blake was quick to pick up on the subtle language cues and rules for each interaction. Different colored flowers meant either the table owner would pay, or they expected their guest to pay for dinner, or they'd split the bills. Certain tables had no flowers at all, the single occupant content with being alone.

Yang insisted Blake go here while she was in town. And while she could have easily refused, it was hard to say no when one of her favorite people turned on the puppy dog eyes. So instead of holing up in her hotel room, Blake prowled through the maze of enclaved tables and booths, all equipped with a set of curtains if more privacy was desired.

The lighting was probably too dim to be comfortable for most humans. The occasional lamplight shimmering on a tabletop twinkling like stars on an ocean. Blake honestly found it homey, and was about to text Yang a thank-you when she turned her head to see if a table was empty and instead found it occupied by Glynda Goodwitch.

The first thing she noticed was that Glynda also had a book. A single black rose adorned their table, which as far as Blake understood meant they just wanted a single companion to share dinner and conversation with.

They were presenting more masculine today, pants and a blazer resting across a broad, flat chest. In the darkness Blake might have confused them for someone else, since she didn't believe her own eyes. 

The professor looked so different. A scar slashed deep over one eyebrow, crossing over onto a face carved by the wind and the sun. Too many voyages over sea and across the hazardous wastelands had left them weathered. Time had not been kind to them. But then, it rarely treated any hunter well.

"Professor Goodwitch?" Blake blurted out before she could stop herself. Ten years had changed them enough that she _still_ wasn't sure, not until dark green eyes flitted up from the open book to meet hers.

Wariness shifted into confusion, and then a spark of mutual recognition. "Miss Belladonna. What a pleasant surprise." Pale brows bunched together, making it clear Glynda was more surprised than pleased, but was being polite anyway.

Oh no.

_Small talk._

Exactly what she'd been hoping to avoid.

"You... I... hi."

Blake suddenly wasn't here anymore. She was ten years in the past, walking briskly through the dark to a shining light in the distance, the light of Glynda's office. The only one that stayed open after hours.

She was a professional now, a huntress with a certified kill streak. She shouldn't be intimidated by them.

Still, the last time they'd spoken hung heavy on her mind. She wondered if Glynda remembered, too. It was no accident that an entire decade had passed without them crossing paths. Blake took great care to avoid her old professor.

Yet Glynda, it seemed, had no mercy left in their heart. A sudden grin overtook their features, almost violent. "You seem much different from the girl I remember. What was it you said before you graduated? That you'd wait for me?"

Blake wanted to sink into the hardwood floors.

Ten years.

Ten. Fucking. Years. And _that_ was the first thing Glynda said to her?

"I didn't know you'd be here," she said. "I can..." She pointed towards the front doors. "Uh, I can leave, I'm sorry, uh—"

"Blake," Glynda said. "I'm teasing you."

Her ears flicked back, the book twisting in her hands.

"Come sit with me."

Blake sat. She kept her hands on her lap, spine straight as she stared out ahead. Glynda returned to the book they were reading, and after a while, Blake realized no further talk would be had if they didn't care for it. That was more or less what Blake had wanted, too.

The book in her hands was battered after a long trip through the Mistral countryside. Blake had read it cover to cover during this hunting trip, and tonight she planned to slowly re-read it so that she could better absorb its message. But she found her concentration slipping, repeating passages over and over again.

The person next to her was just too distracting, even if they were quiet and absorbed in their own book.

Her old crush lingered in the back of her mind like embers, gray and cold after so much distance and time. Blake hadn’t anticipated that the mere sight of Glynda would stoke them back into a full, uncomfortable flame. When the waiter wandered by, she flagged him down for some ice cold water.

Glynda glanced over at her again. "Not hungry?"

It was the first thing they had said since Blake had sat down.

"Not really," Blake said. "I came here because Yang told me to."

That was what made her old professor set down their book. Arms crossed over it, they looked at Blake with an unwavering gaze. That, at least, was the same. Discomforting, yet also a relief. When dealing with humans, their gaze always drifted up to the ears on top of her head. Glynda's unflinching eye contact was a welcome change of pace.

Encouraged, Blake kept talking. "She said it would be good for me." Then her face fell. "Oh, no. You don't think she knew you'd be here, do you?"

"I doubt it," Glynda said. "Seeing as how I arrived last night."

"Well, thank god for that," she muttered. If Yang was trying to pressure Blake into some half-brained scheme to get closure on a schoolgirl crush, Blake would have murdered her. 

But maybe this was serendipity. Maybe it was time to come clean. That’s the kind of thing Yang would do, and Blake cared for her deeply. Even if her best friend could be a meathead sometimes. 

"Listen,” Blake started, shifting in her seat. “I know it was a long time ago, but I'm still really sorry... about what I said. The last time we saw each other. Putting you in that position must have been uncomfortable and it wasn't right of me."

"My dear," Glynda said, with their chin resting on top of their knuckles. "I get an average of five love confessions per graduating class. I'm used to it; at least you waited until after receiving your license to try."

Blake's jaw worked, words failing her when she needed them most. "Thank you, P… uh… I mean, G…” Don’t call them Professor Goodwitch. Don’t call them Professor Goodwitch. The fact that she almost slipped made her ears stand up taller. The problem was that _Glynda_ felt so wrong on her naked tongue, and it looked like Glynda knew it.  
  
They smiled. “You can still call me Professor if you want to, Blake.”  
  
She was pretty sure her face couldn’t get any hotter, and yet there it went.

"...So what are you reading?" she asked quietly.

Glynda showed her the cover. "Dilettantes and Dust."

"A _romance_?" She wasn't sure why she was so shocked. It wasn't like Glynda was immune to fun. But still, some part of her had half expected them to be grading a stack of essays.

Glynda's blond hair was thrown over one shoulder, wound into a fat braid. They played with it now, a loose grip sliding down in repetitive strokes. "Yes. And you're not allowed to judge me until you show me what you're reading."

Biting back a smile, Blake slid her book over. "Brides and Beowolves."

Glynda's eyes widened fractionally. "It's out already?!"

"I'm friends with the author." She couldn't have hid her preening even if she wanted to. Blake hadn't had to hide anything about herself for a long time; she'd grown out of practice.

Hungrily, Glynda watched the book as Blake returned it to her side.

"You know the black rose already means I'm paying for dinner," Glynda said, "But is there anything I can offer to sweeten the deal in return for that book?"

Blake thought about it. She flinched away whenever Weiss offered to pay for their outings, but that was more out of lingering discomfort with her family name. With all her other friends they always split the bill evenly.

"No need for that, I have an extra ARC to give," she offered. "And I can pay for drinks."

"I like this place because there are rules to be followed." Glynda's face fell flat. "So, some things aren't up for negotiation."

"So you're paying for drinks."

"I'm paying for everything." Glynda took the black flower between two fingers, twirling it once in demonstration. "If you don't want that, you might have to find a table with the right owner."

Blake huffed. "They need to include a masterlist of the flower language here, because I swear I'm only understanding half of it."

"...Hmm," was all Glynda said before they flagged down the waiter again— pretty literally, since the quiet atmosphere was maintained mostly by nonverbal cues. Orders were taken and given by setting out the menu a certain way, and writing down what was needed.

It felt weird to be on even ground with Glynda, but as the hour stretched on, Blake grew more comfortable. In the decade since graduation, Glynda had retired, and worked mostly on research out on the frontier. Blake lived as normally as she could, sticking to her plan to being a classical huntress with a focus on faunus communities. She often worked pro bono, since many (far too many) faunus couldn't afford pro rates, and didn't trust a human huntress to not screw them over.

Not paying the bill was a hard pill to swallow, though. Even given the go-ahead, she made sure not to indulge too much. Small plates, meant to be shared. And a glass of wine— but only after Glynda had ordered one for themself.

"Menagerie has its own hunters," Blake was saying in response to a question. "I want to go somewhere less..."

She hesitated, not because she lacked the words, but because her ears had picked up a strange sound. They swiveled around, trying to pick it out again, only to freeze when she clearly made out a muffled, hoarse moan.

Blake sat still, not sure she should say anything when it happened again. It was was too low for Glynda's human ears to register, that was for sure. And once Blake knew what to be on alert for, she heard more: a mouth open and panting, flesh gliding over flesh, wet and sticky.

Busying her mouth with another glass of wine, Blake kept her gaze lowered.

"Less?" Glynda prompted, unaware of what the booth next to them was up to.

Instead of answering, Blake peered around the corner to confirm; the neighbors had their privacy curtain shut. Still, she felt sorry for whoever was going to take up that table next. Not to mention the servers who would have to clean it up. Retreating back to their own enclave, Blake shook her head. "Sorry. Less fairly represented."

A squeak. That one was loud enough for anyone to hear, but Glynda still hadn't shown any sign of being bothered.

Blake's ears pressed tight against her skull, and she closed her eyes. "Um. Glynda?"

"...Yes?"

Was it her imagination, or was there something wary in their tone? It was lower than usual, green eyes dark as a shaded forest.

"Do you want to continue this conversation somewhere else?" Blake said, sitting closer. "My hotel's not too far from here."

And for the first time, she saw Glynda waver. "Oh," they said, sounding loud in the comparative quiet. "Bold. I thought you might have just wanted a dining companion, but I'm fine with being wrong."

In her confusion, Blake let her ears relax only to hear the creak of wood and stuttered gasps. At this point there was no hiding it, not from anyone this close. Glynda rested one hand in the scant space between them and Blake. Expectation hung over them, heavy and thick as velvet, and that's when it all clicked.

"This is a hunter hookup spot," Blake said numbly, "Isn't it?"

Heat burned itself into her cheeks so bad that Blake was certain she'd be red for the rest of her life.

_I'm going to kill you, Yang._

To their credit, Glynda immediately retreated when Blake showed her distress. "Sometimes," Glynda said, tilting their head in agreement. "It depends on the—"

"The flower, right." Blake tried to remember what she'd read in the lounge's description online. "Fuck. Black means... black means..." Black meant what, again? She wanted to keep talking, not because she ever enjoyed idle chitchat, but because if she didn't fill the air with something she'd have to keep listening to the couple fucking in the booth right next to them. "It means you'll take care of everything."

Oh. That meant _everything_ , didn't it?

"Mhm." Glynda turned back to their drink, all the heat in their gaze cooling up in an instant. "Still want to sit with me?"

With their eyes no longer on her, Blake could relax and remember how to breathe. She felt so _stupid_ , going over their every interaction with a new lens. Glynda was here looking for someone to fuck and _she'd_ been chattering away over _romance novels_ , wasting their time. Or possibly leading them on, because there was no way Glynda wanted her. If Glynda wanted her, they had their chance ten years ago and they had rejected her.

Instinct told her she should apologize for the misunderstanding. Getting to her feet, she was instead struck by something much more powerful: 

The realization that Glynda had been the one to invite her to begin with. 

_Come sit with me._

She wasn't intruding at all. 

Glynda was the one chancing a rejection.

"Yes," Blake said slowly, lowering herself back onto the booth. "I'd like to stay. If that’s okay with you."

"If I didn't enjoy your company I would have asked you to leave by now."

More and more, she was remembering what it was like to talk to Glynda. But now there was no barrier between them, no power imbalance. "What exactly are you expecting?" she asked, wanting everything out on the table. No more coded language. No more flowers.

They laughed. "Us in my hotel room. Or we finish dinner and say goodbye after a nice evening catching up."

That bluntness used to be terrifying. Now, she found it reassuring. But mostly Blake was amused. "Just like that, huh?"

"You're an adult," Glynda said simply. "Do as you please."

Blake didn’t know what she expected, just that she finally had permission to be bold. Something shredded; whatever miscommunication had kept them on separate pages was gone now.

Safe within the privacy of their booth, she slid a little closer, resting a hand on the inside of Glynda’s thigh.

"Oh!"

She didn't expect the rock-hard length strapped there, pressed tight to Glynda's leg. Shocked, she paused, looking up into Glynda's perfectly stoic expression. They didn't move at all, letting Blake curiously trace the outline over soft fabric. Glynda's body coiled up with tension, every muscle rigid under Blake's roving hands. Their eyelids fluttered, but never closed, watching her intently.

"Would you have let anyone else get this close, if they sat down at your table?" Blake wondered, following the seam of Glynda's pants to press right against their crotch.

"Maybe." Was it her imagination, or did they sound breathless? "If they were a pretty little huntress."

Glynda finally moved to touch her, brushing knuckles against her cheek, unbearably gentle.

It left her trembling, ten years of want brought up to the surface with nothing but a silent exchange, her eyes meeting theirs. 

Getting up to her knees on their shared seat, Blake moved even closer, and tilted Glynda's head back for a kiss.

Their lips parted under hers, already warm and wanting. If this was a test, Blake passed with flying colors, because then their strong hands gripped her by the waist and pulled her onto their lap. Stradding them, Blake deepened the kiss, whimpering when Glynda's hands wandered down to grip her ass.

It was surreal, to have this freely given when before she'd been denied. But she'd just been a kid then, even if she didn't feel very young at twenty one years old. The ink hadn't even been dry on her hunting license when she went back to Goodwitch's office after hours, knocked on the door—

Glynda pushed both hands up the back of her shirt, stroking her spine with calloused palms. That was the thing Blake liked about hunters, they were rarely soft. She dug her fingers through their hair, mussing up their braid to pet through gold hair laced heavily with pure silver.

Glynda sighed, tongue curling and stroking Blake's. So she ducked lower, wanting to see where else she could pull that noise from. Warningly, Glynda made a fist tight in her hair. Blake immediately stopped at the harsh touch, blinking in surprise and concern.

But Glynda just smiled.

"The curtain, please."

"Oh. Yeah." She'd gotten carried away, like the noisy couple still going at it next to them.

Blake withdrew, slipping free of Glynda's grasp to go pull the curtain shut on their table. Immediately she sank into the shadows. Not wanting to wait the extra two seconds it would take to walk, she appeared right back on Glynda's lap in tendrils of coiling darkness, ears pricked forward eagerly.

"None of that, now," Glynda said gently when she moved to unbutton their shirt. Taking Blake's hands, they put them palm down on the table behind her.

Blake's heart pounded harder and louder, almost but not quite enough to drown out the noise of the other couple. It wasn't embarrassing anymore, it was exciting. Almost voyeuristic. When Glynda peeled her tight white pants down just past her hips, she was already dripping wet. A single pass over dark hair came back shining, and Glynda tasted it between two fingers.

Blake let out a trembling breath.

"Do you want me to move?" she asked. "I could take the rest off."

"No," they said, "This is more than fine for now."

There was no way to tell if Glynda was the sort who didn't like teasing, or if today they just weren't feeling up for it. Glynda pushed their hand down the open fly of her pants, stroking harshly between thighs trapped by tight fabric. Blake bit her lower lip, whimpering as her old professor worked her with those rough fingers. They framed her clit between two digits, rubbing the sensitive flesh around it without giving any direct stimulation.

A white knuckled grip on the table's edge was the only thing keeping her sane. Blake rocked her hips in time with Glynda's touch, wonderful and strong and pulling her to the brink faster than she'd ever experienced before.

In the semi darkness, Glynda's pine green eyes glowed. Aura, raw and primal, always at the beck and call of every hunter. The veil between physical bodies and a soul's power was thinner in people like Blake than in the general populace. But she'd never seen a hunter radiating so much of it when not in combat.

"Good?" Glynda asked in a rough whisper, and Blake realized she hadn't blinked yet. Had scarcely breathed.

"Oh god," Blake said instead of anything coherent. She was too far gone, she realized, her pulse centered around the fingers stroking her slick entrance. "G-god."

She was no better than those other people next to them, riding Glynda's fingers in public with merely a sheet of fabric separating them from the outside world. Shaking with need at nothing more than being touched. So wet that Glynda's palm was slick with it when pressed directly against her clit.

Solid pressure, and teasing flicks around her entrance. Vividly Blake imagined pulling Glynda free of their pants and filling herself with that hard length, stretched out and fucked.

Instead she came. With a little cry of loss, she let go of everything, already mourning that this was over so soon. But more than that she was _delirious_ with pleasure, her clit still hard and throbbing. There was nothing but her own come between her flesh and Glynda's. The heady mix of long denied pining and the risk of being heard made her punch drunk.

"Inside me," she gasped, not sure if she could let go of the table yet to push her own hair out of her sweat-streaked face. She didn't want to risk Glynda stopping. She'd go mad if they did. It was like every inch of her had come except for her cunt, and she needed more. "Fuck me. Fuck. Please."

No sooner did the words leave her lips than Glynda obeyed, middle and ring finger knuckle deep in her. Blake felt swollen and overripe, spilling and dripping with every touch. Glynda's thrusts were limited with her pants in the way, but it was enough. Blake came again, tightening around their fingers with a long purr and her head thrown back, an exhausted grin on her face.

Pressing their face against Blake's abdomen, Glynda stayed inside her a while longer. When the last twitch of pleasure faded away, they pulled free and wiped their hand off on their pants.

"You can let go of the table now," Glynda said, chuckling when Blake finally relaxed back onto their lap. She slumped over, boneless and satisfied, purring loud enough that it probably could be felt against Glynda's chest. 

Glynda stroked a hand over her long black hair, holding her for as long as she wanted. It was only when Blake got restless, kissing them softly up their neck again, that Glynda pulled back.

"Was your curiosity sated?" they asked, fondly petting Blake's face with the back of their knuckles.

"Hmm?" Blake couldn't figure out their meaning.

"That was my little gift to you," Glynda went on, eyes flitting over her face as if memorizing it, already nostalgic. "I figured I owed it to you, after how our last meeting went."

Blake's heart sank, confused and a little distressed. "What?"

Soothing her down, Glynda kissed her again. "I mean we don't have to do any more if that was all you wanted."

That hardly seemed fair to her. "What about what you want?" she wondered. 

When Glynda didn't immediately answer she rolled her hips against theirs. Glynda responded to the goad with eagerness, tension quickly mounting as she covered their mouth in a messy kiss. Grinding together, Blake thought she could stay like that forever until Glynda's strong hands cupped her ass.

"What do you want, Glynda?" she asked again. They pulled her down against them, seeking more friction until every breath was a growl. "Be honest with me."

Glynda wound one hand tight in her hair, pulling her head to the side just to snarl into her ear. "What I want will leave you too sore to walk, girl."

A laugh bubbled up from her chest. She couldn't help it. A faunus in her prime, a huntress for a decade, and a killer for longer. It had been a while since anyone dared to call her a _girl_ , or try to threaten her. Most knew just by looking at her that such a tactic wouldn't work.

"Pft." She rolled her eyes. "You're all talk."

That pleased Glynda. They smiled, a slow, lazy thing. "I'll make you eat those words."

"I'd really like to see you try."

After paying their bill, Glynda lead her to where they were staying. It was a short walk, but it still left her teeth chattering. Mistral in springtime was indistinguishable from winter. Their breath turned into bellowing hot steam with every exhale. Despite the cold, Blake was buzzing with energy again, ready and willing to see what the older hunter had in store.

"Good evening Mx. Goodwitch," the concierge greeted Glynda personally, which struck Blake as odd. But she'd never stayed in a hotel this grand before, not when a hunter lounge or hostel or friend's couch would do. "Will you be dining in again tonight?"

Without skipping a beat, Glynda rested one hand on Blake's shoulder. "No, not tonight. A former student requires my attention and I need absolute solitude."

Blake nearly lost it right there in the lobby. Somehow, she managed to tap into old bad habits, and kept herself the perfect image of solemnity.

Until they reached the elevators. When the doors slid shut— _then_ she lost it.

"You think that's funny, do you?" Glynda had her by the hips, towering over her in sturdy black heeled boots. They tugged Blake close, flush against their body, and kissed her hard. "This is why you need someone like me to teach you a lesson."

"Is that why you told them I'm your student?" Blake asked, keeping a tight grip on the collar of Glynda's shirt.

"As if that isn't exactly why you want me."

Clinging together in another needy kiss, they only broke apart when the elevator stopped to let on new passengers. So the two of them waited side-by-side, Glynda's arm wrapped possessively around her waist. She wondered if the other couple riding with them knew exactly what they were about to go do.

Glynda's room was not large, but it was held the trappings of luxury few in their profession could afford. Blake was about to make a quip about Ozpin's budget waste and if she should look into working for him too, but Glynda wasn't in a mood for any further conversation.

"Up," Glynda muttered against her mouth, guiding Blake's arms higher to pull her shirt over her head. Her bra soon followed, kicked aside along with her pants. Then Glynda had her on the closest available flat surface, the huge desk pushed up against the wall.

Glynda's fingertips rested on her bare thighs, brow pressed to hers. "Anything I need to know? Anything off limits?"

"No," Blake breathed back, remembering the black rose. It was almost too good to be true, to imagine that Glynda would take care of everything she needed. "Safe words?"

"'No' or 'stop' is usually enough for me. Say those." Glynda smirked. "You will probably need to tap out before I do."

"I—" Blake hesitated, a flush overtaking her features again. "Red," she said, again envisioning the flower, the thick scent of it, of being wrapped up somewhere safe and protected. "Is mine. It's red. Just in case."

The smile they got in response was positively beatific. Then Glynda sank down.

On both knees, Glynda kept up that same urgent pace as in the restaurant. They parted Blake's lips with two thumbs, taking only a moment to admire her swollen red folds. "What a mess I made of you," they murmured, raising goosebumps wherever their breath blew against heated skin.

Their tongue stroked a blazing hot line over Blake's sex, from entrance to clit.

Blake bit back a cry only to remember they weren't in public anymore. She didn't have to worry about noise. Free to relax, she sank into the rough ministratioins. She figured Glynda would tell her if they were ready to be touched yet, if they wanted that at all. So she touched herself, cupping her own breasts to pull and pinch her nipples.

"Glynda, I... I wanted this for so long," she said, her voice melted into something unrecognizable to her own ears. "It's so good. You're so good."

Glynda paused only to drop another kiss on her thighs. "I know."

That could have been in response to anything she said, or all of it. But Glynda chose not to elaborate, focusing only on Blake. They dipped their tongue inside her, lingering there to suss out every sensitive spot. She was kept on edge, so wet she had to be ruining the desk underneath her, so wet Glynda's lips shone with it.

Those lips settled around her clit, sucking until she hissed, toes curling as pleasure shot up her spine. Soft, gentle laps soothed her down before Glynda was inside her once more, lips curling and tongue stroking until Blake thought she might come from just that. And when Glynda returned to her clit again, she did.

This one hit her hard, hammer-fast like her pulse. A growl rose up from her chest, the whole room painfully bright for an instant as her eyes shifted like she was hunting prey. Blinking away the afterimages, Blake realized she'd locked Glynda's head tightly between her thighs, ankles hooked together.

Apologizing under her breath, Blake slowly released them and relaxed as best as she could. Thankfully Glynda seemed more amused than anything else, sitting back on their heels to thoughtfully rub a hand over the scar on their face.

"Last thing to snare me that bad was a king taijitu," Glynda said with good humor.

"Was I better at kissing than it, at least?"

"Much." Glynda proved it with another lingering kiss.

This close together, Blake felt encouraged to touch again, smoothing a palm down Glynda's chest to cup between their legs. When she stroked the hard length hidden there, Glynda squirmed in her arms.

"And are you planning on keeping this from me all night?" she wondered, squeezing it.

"One moment," Glynda said. Retreating a bit, they unbuttoned their own pants, pulling a length of black silicone free with a relieved sigh. "Ah, that was digging into some uncomfortable places."

"I bet."

To her surprise, Glynda kept stripping. A tan binder kept their chest compressed, but after a bit of struggle that joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

"This doesn't bother you," Glynda said, standing there perfectly naked as the day they were born. The only thing adorning them was a scrap of black leather on their hips, snugly holding the silicone cock. It stood straight up, begging for Blake's attention. "Does it?"

"No. It's part of why I started crushing on you," Blake said without thinking. All the blood in her brain had long since fled. Then she looked up at Glynda with an apologetic smile. "I know it's not the same, but... I was binding, too."

She still did, on occasion. Both chest and ears. It was nice to know someone else was sort of like her.

For the first time, Glynda's focus shifted to her secondary ears. "Is there anything about those I should keep in mind?" they wondered.

"Not really," Blake said, guiding their hand up to let Glynda know they were safe to touch. "Just don't pull too— nnnngh."

Every word died in her throat when Glynda stroked her ears, massaging the velvety length. Glynda squeezed lightly, making Blake's mouth crack open, a long purr erupting from deep in her throat.

"Yes, just like that." Blake closed her eyes, leaning heavily into their touch. "I... mmm, Glynda, I want to sit on your lap again. Can I?"

"Of course."

Truth be told, Blake wasn't accustomed to taking a passive role in sex. So when Glynda led her to the bed, she settled comfortably over them, relishing in the pressure of another chest against her own. Holding onto Glynda's shoulders, she slid over their cock, letting it slip between her wet folds and bump against her tender clit.

Glynda kept her anchored with a firm grip on her ass, pulling her up on every thrust. Every pass made the black material shine bright and wet. Teasing the head over her entrance made it clear that every idle movement threatened to plunge it inside her.

She was more than ready, sinking onto it when she couldn't wait any longer. There was no resistance at all, just a stretch that satisfied her down to the bone. Linked tight to Glynda, she rocked on their lap, setting a hard pace.

"That's it, Blake," Glynda said with admiration, gripping and squeezing Blake's ass. "I knew you could keep up with me."

She buried her head in their neck, each open mouthed kiss rougher than the last. Blake didn't want to respond, didn't want to do anything except fuck herself on her teacher's cock. But she had to groan, "I found the perfect spot right here, so don't move."

Glynda laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it."

They encouraged her to take more, suckling on her breasts when she guided their head down. A wreath of red marks were left around her neck, and if Glynda's lips or tongue were sore from working so hard, they didn't show it. Their hands were everywhere at once, fingers spread and digging deep into pliable flesh.

It wasn't as quick as the other times, especially since there was only so much pressure she could get on her clit at this angle. Not unless she wanted to squeeze a hand between their bellies, slick with sweat, and rub herself off. But she was more interested in touching Glynda. She was fascinated by the shift of muscle under loose skin, how age had made their body change, how wonderful it still was and how much better it felt than she could have ever imagined.

When she came close she started trembling with the effort of it, every breath labored and rough. Release was close, so close, but she couldn't quite reach it no matter how hard she tried.

"Glynda, I—"

She stopped, huffing hard and sitting back. Her thighs ached, straddled over Glynda's lap, and for the first time she realized those were covered in bite marks too. "I can't come again. Sorry," she added as an afterthought, a little rueful.

"What makes you think you have to?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't stop," was Glynda's simple solution. They pulled her back on their lap, kissing her insistently. "It felt good, right?" Blake nodded, distracted by their hands on her again. "So keep on until it doesn't. Orgasms are nice, Blake, but they're not better than sex."

A lot of people claimed they wanted to screw until they couldn't walk anymore, but Glynda evidently meant it. They wanted her on the brink of collapse, every nerve scrubbed raw and useless. The hands on her hips, strong as iron, pulled her firmly onto their cock, Glynda's hips twitching up to urge Blake on.

_I knew you could keep up with me._

The praise made her glow warmer than ever, now that she had a firmer grasp on what exactly that entailed. Glynda was a marathon runner, and here she was trying to sprint. The mental image made her giggle, but the noise got tangled up on the way out of her mouth and escaped her as a sigh.

It took her a few tries, but eventually Blake found her rhythm again. She and Glynda moved together, enjoying the moment, enjoying each other.

"Is this good for you too?" Blake asked once, getting a quick nod in response.

The reassurance made any lingering concern fade away. She held Glynda tight, and everything became flesh, or leather, and hot breath fogging up the lenses of Glynda's glasses, and sweat making them stick together, and salt on the tip of her tongue, and the constant stimulation of that thick cock filling her up, all of it feverishly melding together into a high without end.

Except then it did end, temporarily. She shuddered from the tips of her secondary ears to her core, pulsing and gripping the toy tight inside her. Wetness ran down her thighs, so much she thought she must be gushing slick and come, viscous and sticky and ruining the sheets. She and Glynda didn't stop, riding through it until it became another note in the background noise of their bodies working together.

"Get on your stomach."

There was no way she would have argued that, even if she weren't feeling more liquid than person. Glynda's weight grounded her, that scarred hand gripping hers tight. Blake expected to be fucked hard, to be ridden at that same hard pace from earlier. She could feel so much power lingering in the air, the heat of aura glowing radioactive green, sparking every time Glynda moaned her name.

Instead it was agonizingly slow, Glynda rolling in as deep as they could and filling her with shallow thrusts before slipping all the way out. It was just different enough that Blake couldn't catch her breath and grow accustomed to any of it. Glynda was taking their time, obviously. It wasn't until they hit a spot inside her that made her see sparks that she realized Glynda was _searching_ for something.

"Oh!" She gripped the sheets suddenly, ears pricking up. "Glynda—!"

Glynda did it again. Fucked raw as she was, Blake couldn't believe she was still so sensitive. But exhaustion had sunk into her, all her inhibitions loosened after hours in bed together. She'd never screamed in bed before but now she could do nothing else, not when Glynda gleefully pushed her to the edge again and again.

"What was that, Blake?" they asked, after a breathless laugh they thrusted hard, wrenching another scream out of her. "Was that your _perfect spot_? Lucky, lucky girl."

They fucked her at the same slow pace, but it had a harsher edge, almost cruel with how every idle twitch had Blake sobbing their name.

"I haven't even gotten started with you." Their voice promised everything, a dark little growl punctuated by the headboard banging against the wall with every drawn out thrust. "I'm going to fuck you like you deserve. And you love it. You love it. You love it." Glynda said it again, or maybe Blake thought it, a mantra reverberating in her head until her whole body echoed with it.

This is why Glynda didn't give her the time of day before, she realized through her haze. This is why Glynda offered her that first orgasm as a _gift_ , thinking Blake wouldn't have been able to withstand everything they had to offer. The most powerful hunter in a century, the right hand of Ozpin himself, aura overflowing like wine from a cup— someone like that needed a partner who could keep up.

"P—" There she went again, stuttering when something warm and buzzing shocked the tip of her tongue. Aura coated Blake in raw energy. Her vision flooded with green as Glynda's rhythm went off-kilter, instinctive and needy. They were coming, god, coming inside her. Pouring through her in every way possible, physically and through her aura, something she'd only ever read about. "Gly— Pr—"

Strong teeth sank into her primary ears, pulling on the shell. "You can call me Professor if you want, Blake."

"Professor," she exhaled on a gasp, and was rewarded with a harder thrust, the slap of flesh on flesh louder now. " _Please_."

The rest was lost in a keening noise, her lips a perfect o of shock. After that she couldn't do anything except come. So many times that she lost count. She swore and snarled, on all fours until her knees gave out and they were both prone on the mattress, headboard still heavily thumping against the wall, damn the neighbors if there were any, damn anyone who wanted to judge her or wanted to stop her. Nothing mattered then except Glynda. 

And Glynda wrapped her up between two hands and wrung her like a damp towel, squeezing her for every last drop until there was nothing left to feel.

Like a light burning out, when Blake couldn’t feed off their energy anymore, she finally just shut down.

"S-stop," she said hoarsely, in the end proving Glynda right: she tapped out first.

Glynda stopped, panting raggedly. 

Rolling onto her back, Blake stared up at glowing green eyes. Their blond hair hung in loose, wild waves over both shoulders, shining silver and gold in the moonlight. Then Glynda's body settled next to hers, petting her ears fondly one last time. That was the last thing she could remember before the world went quiet, and she passed out in their arms.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning saw Glynda walking her to the train terminal. They carried her bags for her; it was the gentlemanly thing to do, though today Glynda had swapped out the trousers for a skirt and blouse.

"Here," Blake said before she had to depart. She gave Glynda her copy of the new romance book, the one with her notes in the margins. It was a gift she usually reserved for friends; she hoped Glynda would be charmed rather than annoyed by the scribbles. "For you."

Glynda took the book and waved it with a smile. "Would you say I earned it?"

Flushing bright red, Blake nodded. "I would have given it to you anyway," she said, trying and failing to hide how her legs were still trembling. "But... my address is written on the back," she finished in a mumble. "In case you want to give me anything else in return."

"How about a letter?"

"I... yes, that's what I wanted to say. A letter. To write each other." Blake stopped. "I've never been good with words."

The train whistle blew.

"Me neither."

So Glynda bent down and kissed her, warm and sweet and tender.

"I look forward to seeing you again, Blake," they said, kissing her once more on the brow. "Let's not wait another ten years for our next reunion."

"I would love that," Blake said, smiling like a fool. The train whistle blew again, one last warning, and she carted her bags aboard.

She watched Glynda from her window as the train rolled away. The hunter stayed there on the platform, solid and strong as one of the protective statues that lined the city walls. Blake pressed one hand to the glass, letting her palm linger there until the station was long gone, and Glynda was out of sight.

All through the long, cold journey, Blake imagined Glynda was still where she'd left them. In her dreams, for weeks afterwards, they were still there on that snowy platform. Green vines overtook them eventually, buds ripening and then bursting into bloom, the scent heady every time Blake awoke. 

Surrounded by a garden of black roses, [Glynda Goodwitch waited with a faint smile on their face.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aTBSQKh8teE)


End file.
